


We’re off on an O'Driscoll hunt

by reddeadmort



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 17:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18348227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddeadmort/pseuds/reddeadmort
Summary: Reader has twin kids with Arthur. A normal trip to the store ends up in a robbery and kidnapping, whole gang rescue mission ensues.Fourth work in the 'Going Steady' Collection - these stories weren't deliberately written as follow ons, but do work well together.Other Going Steady stories:Paired up,Pregnant, Not Dying,There's Something about Mary





	1. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First part focuses on reader, Arthur is mentioned but doesn't feature until chapter 2.

You didn’t like having to take the wagon into town. It was slow and cumbersome, not particularly well maintained. But, when you had the twins by yourself, you didn’t have much choice. You couldn’t safely carry both of them on your horse, and there was no point dragging Arthur along for such a mundane little trip; he had more lucrative matters to attend to.

4 or 5 years ago, you would never have considered that you’d be doing such domestic things as taking your kids for new clothes and a haircut. It seemed insane; one day, you’d be robbing a train, husband at your side, while the next day you’d be dealing with two screaming children, both upset that they had the other one’s shirt on,  _despite them being the exact same shirt._  You did often feel a sense of guilt when you left them behind to go on a job; after all, you might not come back. You always tried to push the thought from your mind, reminding yourself that you could quite as easily die from something far less exciting in or near the camp – illness, accident, animal attack.

But still, you felt that little pang, and whenever you were returning from being away, the thing that usually filled your mind was getting back to them. You knew Arthur felt the same way; ever since the twins were born, he spent far fewer nights away from camp, only when he had to. Where you could, you tried to only have one of you away from camp at a time – the kids always slept better when one of you was there to curl up next to. Thankfully, with some persuasion, they would also sleep in Abigail and John’s tent on the boar skin rug Arthur had made. You were so grateful for Abigail and John; without them, you and Arthur would never be able to get some top quality alone time.

The sounds of arguing pulled you out of your daydream.

“What are you two doing? Stop it, right now!” The twins were squabbling on the seat next to you; you knew you should have sat one on either side.

“But it’s my stick! I wanna it!”

 _Where the hell did they even get that from?_ Sighing, you leaned over, and took the stick from them, with some resistance.

“Come on now, we’re nearly there. It won’t take long, and if you’re both good, we’ll go see the sheep like I promised, okay?” Your tone was soft but forceful, accompanied by a look that said  _don’t push it_. Even after these years, your ‘mum’ voice still felt strange, alien; like it wasn’t you that said it. Your words were met with some muffled muttering, but the twins settled once again. They confused the hell out of you on a daily basis; they  _hated_  being apart, even for 5 minutes, but always wound each other up when they were together.  

You stopped the wagon next to the Valentine stables and unloaded the kids. First stop – haircuts. They were starting to look like John, and as much as you loved him, the man didn’t have a clue how to groom himself. Shorter hair was much better for your life, much easier to keep clean. You weren’t even going to attempt cutting their hair yourselves; you had many skills, but giving a good haircut was not one of them.

The trips to the barbers and the general store were mercifully short, and the children were actually on best behaviour, albeit a little bored when being shoved into various clothes to see what fitted.  _They must really want to see those sheep_ you thought. You loaded your bag onto the wagon, then turned to look down at the kids – they were waiting for those magic words.

Smiling, you sighed slightly, and rolled your eyes in an over-exaggerated manner. “Come on then, let’s go see the sheep!”

The kids squealed and, pausing to check there was no one coming, ran off across the street between the buildings towards the auction yard. You grinned and started after them; you were glad to see they had stopped to check for any horses or wagons, but had no idea where this sensible side had come from. It certainly wasn’t from you or Arthur!

When you got to the mouth of the alley, you couldn’t see them at the end, but you didn’t worry; they knew exactly where they were going, and you would be able to see them as soon as you reached the end. Still, you quickened your pace slightly.

As you stepped out, slightly blinded by the sun, you were about to call their names when you were grabbed from behind and a hand clamped over your mouth. You were about to fight back, elbow this brute in the stomach, when you saw your kids in front of you. You breathed in sharply as your adrenaline surged at the sight of your twins, hands clamped over their mouths, knives to their throats.

“Now, Mrs Morgan, dontcha go makin’ a noise now” a low voice whispered in your ear. “Or, well…. let’s say your little happy family will get smaller.” The words were almost snarled, each one dripping with hatred. Your kids were in shock, stood perfectly still, too frightened to even cry.

“We need to have a little chat.” The man growled and dragged you backwards into the backroom of one of the shops. Your heart sank when you saw even more men; 3, you could have taken, as long as you got them separated from the kids, but 6 was far too many. You recognised a couple of them as O’Driscolls; the others you didn’t know, but Colm’s men typically didn’t survive for any length of time.

You were shoved roughly down onto a chair, the hand over your mouth finally releasing, but only so that you could be tied down. You complied, letting them pull your arms behind you, and didn’t make a noise, even when the rope cut into your wrists as it was pulled tight. The men with your kids had followed you in, knives still at their throats; as soon as you were secure, the knives were removed and the kids roughly gagged before having their hands and feet tied.  _What kind of animals tie up young children!_  You were practically screaming in your head, but still, no noise came from your mouth. You weren’t going to give these bastards any excuse.

“Right girly.” The man who spoke was inches from your face, and you could feel his warm breath on you, the stench filling your nostrils. “Sorry, I mean…. _Mrs Morgan._ ” He spat these last words at you, spittle spraying your face. This was why it was dangerous to have a family as an outlaw. Too many things they could use to get to you, too easy to provoke a dangerous gut instinct response.

“We need ya help. See, we want some of that money that’s in the bank. Except we don’t want the law thinkin’ it was us, see? And when we found that you lot were set up nearby, well, that’s just a gift” the man sneered at you.

 _So that’s what they want, the bastards._ To frame you, the gang; even if you didn’t get caught, as soon as the Pinkertons caught wind of your description they would be all over this area. You’d managed to lay low for so long, deliberately avoiding causing a fuss in Valentine, persuading Dutch to take a closer look at each score. Without any solid leads, the Pinkertons hadn’t had the cash to chase you past Blackwater, especially after a few years had passed; it wasn’t exactly the life you wanted, moving between different camps in New Hanover, but the latest camp at Horseshoe overlook was comfortable and pleasant.    

“So,  _sweetheart_ ” – those words made you shudder involuntarily – “you’re going to help us rob the bank. And Joe here is going to hang on to yer kids a little way out of town while we do so. You do exactly as we say, and we won’t harm a hair on their heads. We’ll even let you all go runnin’ off back to Dutch, give your pathetic little group a head start. ‘Cause we’re  _nice_  like that.” That last part made all the man around the room laugh.

“Agreed, girly?”

You gave a slight nod of your head, still not daring to say anything. The man in front of you chuckled.

“Oh, I forgot, you weren’t given permission to speak. Yer a good little girl ain’t yeh? I can see why Arthur likes you.” He patted the top of your head mockingly, like a dog, as he spoke. “Come on girl, speak, there’s a good girl.”  _This bastard was going to die slowly._

“Fine. I’ll help. But I don’t want to get shot because of one of you dumb bastards.” You weren’t expecting the slap, and it was powerful, almost knocking you and the chair over. You spat on the floor, clearing your mouth, before turning your head back.

“Now there’s the fightin’ talk I was expectin’. Dutch’s gundog not tamed ya yet then? Maybe you need a  _real_  man” he leered at you. You kept your mouth shut; across the room, you could see your kids had finally started to cry, and they reminded you that you had to tread carefully.

“Right, let’s go. Joe, you take the brats to the meetin’ spot. The rest of you, cover up and get your guns ready.” Your kids were picked up roughly by the backs of their shirts and bundled out of the room. You tried to call out to them, to reassure them, but before you could a hand was over your mouth again.

“Naa deary, don’t you be goin’ and callin’ attention to us now.” You swallowed and took a deep breath when the hand was removed. You were cut free and dragged to your feet. Your hand went to your pistol at your side, a movement which was immediately greeted by 5 guns pointing at you and the click of hammers being drawn back. You slowly pulled your hand away, lifting it above your shoulder.

“I was just checking my gun” you said slowly, carefully. “Kinda hard to rob a bank without one.”

There was a pause, until the leader laughed and lowered his revolver, prompting the others to do the same.

“Fair, girly, fair. But know that for every injury we get, one of your precious little kiddies will have the same thing done to it.”  _Where did Colm even find these bastards?_ You didn’t exactly run with nice men, but none of them had ever been cruel or stupid enough to threaten a child.

You followed them out the back, desperately hoping to catch any sight of your kids, but they were long gone. As you crept up the side of the bank, you went to pull your bandana up over your face, only to have it ripped off.

“Nice try sweetheart, but we want them to recognise  _you._ ” You gritted your teeth; no going back now.

You were pushed to the front, one behind the leader, and stayed behind him as you all burst through the doors.

“Get your goddamn hands up, this is a goddamn robbery! Nobody move!” he shouted. You went into autopilot; this wasn’t exactly your first time robbing a bank. Thankfully there were few customers, and no one was stupid enough to go for any weapons, just got on the ground nice and quick. You recognised the general store owner’s daughter, and you knew she’d seen you too.

“Y/N! Mrs Morgan! Unlock the damn door” the leader shouted as he threw you some keys. He really wanted to make sure you and the gang got the blame for this. You unlocked the door as the terrified teller stumbled backwards in front of you. One of the O’Driscolls pushed past you and grabbed the poor man, striking him and throwing him towards the vault door.

“Open the goddamn vault, open it!” he screamed at him. When the teller didn’t move quick enough, he screamed at him again. “Son of a bitch, too goddamn slow!”. The panicked teller pushed the heavy vault door open and the O’Driscoll kicked him forwards into the vault. You followed - you wanted to prevent him from being killed if you could.

“Open the damn lock boxes!” The O’Driscoll yelled at him, pushing his gun against the teller’s forehead.

“I.. I…. I don’t know the codes! Only the manager does!” You jumped forwards as the O’Driscoll pulled back the hammer of his revolver.

“WAIT! I can crack them, it won’t take long. Don’t kill the poor bastard. It’ll only draw attention to us.”

“Fine, but hurry up!” The O’Driscoll knocked the teller out with a swift hit and instead pointed the gun at you. “Here’s a little motivation for ya” he sneered.

You made swift work of the safes, this was something you’d done many times, and a lot of these small town banks often used only 2 or 3 codes for all their lockboxes anyway. As you emptied each box, you threw the money to the O’Driscoll behind you. As soon as you cleared the last one, you hurried out, following the men out of the bank to some waiting horses. You jumped on behind the leader, clinging to the saddle, concentrating on not falling off as the group thundered out of Valentine. How the hell there was no-one following you, you didn’t know; these dumb bastards weren’t exactly subtle.

You soon slowed down at a small camp, not far away. Your heart leapt as you saw your kids, still tied, but safe; you jumped off the horse and ran to them. You’d only gone a few paces when a rope caught you by the leg, slamming your face painfully into the ground. Before you could turn over, hands were on you, tying your hands behind your back and your feet together, pulling off your gun belt. You struggled, cried out, and saw your kids attempting to do the same, tears once again streaming down their faces.

“Now, girly, you didn’t think we was actually goin’ to let you go did you? Two of our new lads are going to go and hand you in the Sheriff, say they saw you runnin’ away. They’ll probably even get paid” the leader laughed, turning you over.  

“You goddamn bastards” you said as you spat in his face. “What are you going to do with my kids!”

“Don’t you worry, we ain’t gonna kill ‘em. Oh no, these two will fetch a pretty penny. We’ll stick ‘em on a train out west, there’s always people needin’ workers that won’t..can’t…. run away. Or there’ll be some rich family lookin’ for replacements.” Your heart almost broke at the thought of never seeing your kids again. It would kill Arthur; he couldn’t lose the children, not again……

You were gagged, tied to a tree and could do nothing as you watched the O’Driscolls ride off with your crying children. Your only consolation was that you knew there were no more trains coming through for one or two days, as a flood had damaged one of the bridges. Maybe there was still a chance…..

A couple of hours passed as two of the men waited with you, as instructed. They laughed and joked, had a drink, thankfully completely ignoring you. It hadn’t taken you long to realise they had neglected to remove the knife strapped horizontally to the back of your trousers; you’d moved it there as soon as the twins were tall enough to grab at it when it was strapped to your thigh.

As quietly as you could, you edged it out of the sheath a small amount, and started to saw at the rope around your wrists. It was not a quick process, and you definitely cut your hands and wrists more often than the rope, but eventually the rope slackened enough for you to free one arm. Your shoulder screamed at you as you levered your arm, hand clutching the knife, from the ropes tying you to the tree. It only took one cut, and you gently lowered the rope to the ground before quickly freeing your feet.

The two men were far too engrossed in some dirty pictures they were showing each other to notice you creeping up behind them. In one fluid movement, you slipped the knife up between the first man’s ribs, directly into his heart, before immediately pulling it out, spinning it and slamming it into the next man’s shoulder. Screaming, he fell to the ground, hand reaching for his gun; as he fell, you pulled the knife out and slammed it into his hand, pinning him down. You were going to take your time with him; you needed information.

You kicked him in the face as his free hand tried to go to the knife; before he had a chance to try again, you pulled his own knife from his belt and drove it through his other hand, leaving him pinned to the ground, spread-eagled, screaming.

“Right. Now you’re going to tell me exactly where you’ve taken my kids, and how many men are there. Otherwise I’m going to start cutting bits off of you; you’d be amazed at how much flesh a man can lose before he dies.” 

The man stared up at you, terrified. You’d never felt rage like this, never felt such a strong desire to cause pain.

“If you’re quick about it, I’ll even let you go. You’ll need to hobble, mind.” 

Without waiting for a response,  you started to yank one of the whimpering man’s boots off, and walked over to his fallen friend to retrieve yet another blade.

“Stop! Stop, please…..” You turned to see he was actually crying; how some of these boys ended up in this life you’d never know. “I’ll tell you! Please…..”

“Hurry up then” you said as you strolled back over, squatting beside his feet, reaching for the one you’d pulled the boot off.

“It’s an old ranch not far from here!” He could barely get the words out, they were so rushed. “It’s our main camp, there’ll be about 30 men.”

“Now that’s what I needed to hear.” You rested the knife on his big toe as he blurted out the rest of the directions. “Anything else you’d like to tell me?” You pressed the blade into his skin, making a small cut.

“NO! Please….there’s…there’s a maxim gun in the barn, in the loft. There’s always someone on a tower near the front, but they can’t see behind the barn.”

“There’s a good lad.” You stood up, sheathing the knife; it was a bit nicer than your one, shame to leave it behind. You walked over to your gun belt, putting it back on, before pulling out your pistol and pointing it at the prone man’s head.

“You said you’d let me go!” he screamed, tears running down his face. It was a pathetic sight. But he’d helped take your kids. And he wasn’t going to get away with it.

“So did you.”

The shot rang out through the woods. You quickly calmed one of the horses, mounted up, and started galloping back towards your camp, making sure to avoid the main road through Valentine. There was still time, still a chance; but you were going to need all the help you could get.


	2. The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're damn well going to get your kids back, and the gang won't let you do it alone.
> 
> Arthur and other gang members feature in this part.

You didn’t bother answering John, on guard, as you galloped into camp. You slowed the horse, not waiting for it to stop before swinging yourself off and running towards the group at the centre. As you started running, you used what little breath you had left to scream.

“ARTHUR!”

You practically barrelled into him and grabbed wildly at his shirt. “They’ve been taken, Arthur. O’Driscolls! I couldn’t….I tried…..” You started to hyperventilate, you couldn’t control the anger and fear inside you.

Arthur grabbed your shoulders, partly to make you look at him, partly to support you.

“Y/N, just breathe, I’m here. What happened? We went lookin’ for you, we found the wagon…” His voice was calm, but you could see the panic on his face.  
You concentrated on your breathing, desperately trying to bring your heart rate back under control. Passing out now would be of no help. As clearly and as quickly as you could, you recounted that day’s events. It was all too much, and you started sobbing.

“I’m so sorry Arthur, I should have fought harder, I shouldn’t have let them take them.”

Arthur pulled you in tight to his chest, holding you, as the entire day’s emotions poured out of you. He pressed his head to the top of yours, eyes shut. He didn’t know what to say; all of his greatest fears were coming true, flashbacks of those two crosses outside that little house.

Without the two of you realising, the entire camp had gathered around you, listening. Before Arthur could think of something to say, to reassure you, Dutch was barking orders.

“Everyone mount up! Grab as many guns and ammunition as you can carry. We’re going on a hunt.” The last part was snarled; Dutch’s code had been broken, and people were going to die.

He turned to address you and Arthur, placing a hand on each of your shoulders. “We will find them. We will bring them back. And we will kill any fool that had the temerity to touch one hair on those kid’s heads. You have my word.” Dutch started to walk away, then stopped. “Arthur, let’s go.”

“I’m coming too Dutch.” Any fear and panic had been completely overrun by anger. You turned away from Arthur, staring at Dutch, daring him to say no. He paused, looking you up and down; he saw your clenched fists, the slight curl in your top lip, your cold gaze.

“Okay. Let’s go get those kids back. Micah, Kieran, anyone strange turns up, you kill ‘em! Rest of you, let’s ride.”

Arthur placed a reassuring hand on the back of your neck as Dutch walked away.

“Y/N, darlin’. We will get our kids back, and they will pay, I promise you.”

“Oh, I know Arthur. I know. I’m going to make sure of it.”

It didn’t take long for everyone to gather their things and soon the entire group was thundering towards the O’Driscoll camp. The ride was generally quiet, though you could occasionally hear Dutch muttering the same phrase over and over to himself.

“Who steals some  _goddamn kids_.”

You and Arthur rode behind Dutch, with John just behind you, the others behind him. John occasionally would break the silence, trying to say anything, something, to reassure you and Arthur.

“I swear, I’ll kill everyone there. I’m gonna let fly at those sons of bitches.” You appreciated what he was trying to do, but his words made no difference. You wouldn’t feel better until you had your kids back, and every single O’Driscoll there had paid, with their blood, for daring to even think about coming near them. As you neared the camp, Dutch started to slow the group down and called out.

“Alright everyone, dismount and come to me. We’ll go in on foot from here.” Everyone followed his instructions, stopping after they dismounted to load up their weapons. You’d never seen the gang carry so many; even Hosea had a shotgun strapped to his back along with the repeater in his hands.

“What’s the plan Dutch?” John asked. Dutch looked at the group, then between you and Arthur, before replying.

“I’m letting the parents lead on this one. Y/N, Arthur, what do you want to do?” His words surprised you; Dutch was the leader, the man that always had a plan; you’d never seen him relinquish control of a situation before. Perhaps he couldn’t face being responsible if this went wrong. You glanced at Arthur, who gave you a slight nod, before you spoke.

“The information I got was that the back of the barn was a blind spot for that guard in the tower” you gestured towards the shadow in the distance. “We approach from behind the barn, Charles takes the tower guard out silently. Then we get into the barn, deal with anyone in there as quietly as possible.” You looked at Arthur for reassurance and he nodded before describing the next steps. You were happy for him to take over, to organise; he had far more experience than you and you trusted him.

“Bill, once we’re in the barn, you get up to the Maxim gun, if it’s there. Me, Y/N and John will need to get to the shack, that’ll almost certainly be where they’re keepin’ ‘em. Charles, reckon you can create a distraction? We’ll need to pull out as many of them as possible to the front, in Bill’s field of fire.”

“Sure, Arthur. Anything you need.” Charles pulled out an arrow and started wrapping some cloth around the point as Arthur continued.

“Bill, as soon as we enter the shack, you mow these bastards down. The rest of you, protect Bill and take out as many as you can, however you want.”

“Y/N, you sure we can trust the information you got?” Hosea asked.

You paused before replying. “I don’t know Hosea, I don’t know. But I’m sure this an O’Driscoll camp, and we don’t have any other choice.” You were very aware of what you were asking the others to do; you didn’t truly know what was waiting for you, and people could die. “Look….all of you. You don’t have to do this. This ain’t a job, there’s unlikely to be any payout, this is personal.” You looked around the group, watching for any sign of hesitation, before Dutch rested his hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N, you’re family. What’s personal to you is personal to all of us.” The rest of the group nodded in agreement with Dutch’s words. “And anyway, killing O’Driscolls is a pastime of ours.” This was met with a chuckle and a few murmurs of agreement.  “Okay, everyone get your heads right. Nobody makes a move until Y/N and Arthur say so.”

The group crept through the trees, staying as low as possible, around the camp to the back of the barn. Arthur signalled to Charles, who stepped out and deftly took the unsuspecting tower guard out with an arrow to the head. Luckily, he fell back onto the boards of the walkway rather than the ground below.

Arthur motioned for Sean to come to him. “Sean, go see if those doors at the back are sealed.” Sean quickly crossed the small gap of open space between the trees and back of the barn and pressed his back up against the barn wall. With his repeater, he nudged at one of the doors and was met with little resistance. He turned back and nodded towards Arthur and you.

“They are a dumb old bunch” Arthur muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear as you crouched next to him. “You ready darlin’?”

“To inflict pain and suffering on the bastards that took our kids? Yes, Arthur, I’m ready.”

Arthur, Charles, Sean and Javier crept into the barn while you waited with the others outside. There were some muffled thumps, then one of the doors opened wide and you were greeted by Sean’s grinning face, waving you in.

There had only been a few men in the barn, and thankfully no-one in the loft. Without needing to be asked, Bill made his way up the ladder to the front of the barn, and a quiet ‘Yeh, that’ll do” let you know there was indeed a Maxim gun up there.  _Turns out that lad was telling the truth._  You wondered what he’d have told you if you had spent a bit more time with him, threatened or removed a few more body parts.

“Right, John, you come with me and Y/N. We’ll deal with the bastards in the shack, but we’ll need you to watch our backs and stop anyone else followin’ us in.”

“Sure thing, brother.”

“The rest of you; you know what to do.” This was greeted with a round of guns being primed; the sight of the group, guns at the ready, prepared to die for your children, made you smile slightly. This was a goddamn strange family, but they were family nonetheless.

You, Arthur and John slipped out of the back of the barn once again, waiting for Charles to create a distraction. You didn’t have to wait long; a flaming arrow shot out of the doors to the left, arcing towards the front of the camp, setting a wagon alight. It had the desired effect; the majority of the men between you and the shack ran towards the disturbance, and you and Arthur made short work of the few that remained with your throwing knives. You didn’t bother retrieving the knives as you ran across to the side of the shack; it was about to get noisy, not the time for quiet, subtle weapons.

You and Arthur stopped either side of the shack door, guns drawn, with John next to you. Arthur was dual wielding two pistols, while you’d gone for a pump action shotgun, revolver holstered. This was going to be close-quarters fighting, messy; you’d let Arthur deal with any precision shooting required.

Arthur nodded to you, then turned and gave the door a powerful kick. As his foot connected with the door, Bill started unloading the maxim gun into the O’Driscolls gathered at the front of the camp. Within seconds, the entire camp was filled with screams, shouts and gunshots.

Arthur was already firing before he’d even stepped inside. You and John quickly followed, taking out the men to the sides of Arthur, as he picked off the unsuspecting O’Driscolls sat around the table in front of him. As soon as he could, John took up his position by the door, eliminating anyone that ran towards the shack.

You could hear what you thought were the shouts of the other gang members, possibly even Bill laughing, but they were deadened, as if you were underwater. Your movements, and everything else around you, felt slowed. You saw the man emerging from the back room, raising a gun at the back of Arthur’s head, saw his finger starting to pull on the trigger. He didn’t manage to complete the motion before his skull was shattered by a blast from your shotgun. As he hit the floor, the world and all its speed and noise came crashing back to you. Arthur turned as the man’s headless body hit the floor, looking at you. He gestured up the stairs, and waited for you to cross the room to him before thundering up them. You followed, your already raised heart rate surging with each step.  _What were you going to find……_

You reached the top of the stairs as Arthur’s bullet thudded into the shoulder of the O’Driscoll while he tried to reach for your still bound children. As he hit the floor, you lunged forwards towards your children, and Arthur’s foot smashed into the prone man’s face. Satisfied the man wouldn’t be waking up until he wanted him too, Arthur turned to you and helped you quickly remove the ropes and gags. Your children were bawling, and threw themselves at you and Arthur. You gathered them in your arms, one each, and started crying as well.

“I’m so sorry darlings, I’m so sorry” you sobbed. “We’re here now, mum and dad are here.” Children cradled in your arms, you and Arthur leaned towards each other and rested your foreheads together. You’d done it. The kids were safe.

The gunshots and screams were fading now, becoming less frequent; the attack was morphing into a hunt now, the gang picking off any stragglers. You could see Arthur’s rage increasing as he examined the children, wrists and ankles red raw and bleeding slightly from the ropes, cheeks bruised from the gags.  John joined you up in the loft, and you saw the relief wash over him as he saw your little group huddled together.

“Y/N, take the kids with John back to the horses.” Arthur stood, helping you up.

“Arthur, I’ve got unfinished business with this bastard. I ain’t leaving.” Despite Arthur’s kick making a right mess of his face, you had recognised the man as the leader of the group that had attacked you and the kids.

“Y/N, they need you. And I don’t want you to see what is going to happen now. This ain’t somethin’ I want you to associate me with.”

You stared into Arthur’s blue eyes, colder than normal, for a moment, considering arguing. But you could tell by his face that this man was going to suffer, and you suspected that Arthur knew far more ways to cause pain than you did. You pulled Arthur in for a kiss, then he handed his twin to John, and the two of you made your way outside. You’d just made it outside when the first scream emanated from the shack.

“Y/N, are they okay? Safe?” Dutch and Hosea strode towards you, and you smiled.

“Yes Dutch, they’re a bit roughed up and upset, but they’re safe. Thanks to all of you. Is everyone out here okay?”

“Yes, we’re fine” Hosea replied. “Just….cleaning up.” You looked around at the bodies practically carpeting the camp, being looted of any valuables by the gang. “Where’s Arthur?”

You looked back at the shack as another, blood-curdling scream, erupted.

“He’s…just getting acquainted with the instigator of this plan.”

Dutch nodded and started to walk away to the shack, before pausing and turning back to you.

“John, take Y/N and the children back to the horses. Hosea, you go with them. We’ll join you when we’ve finished.”

—

_Dutch took his time walking to the shack and up the stairs. He’d always been proud of the man he moulded Arthur into, but sometimes he wondered if he’d taught him too well, given him cause to learn skills no man should reasonably know._

_When he reached the top of stairs, he stopped to take in the scene before him. The O’Driscoll was strung up by his hands with a rope attached to the rafters. Blood was pouring down his arms and torso, and there was so little of his face left in one piece, Dutch was surprised he was even managing to still scream. But scream he did, as Arthur pressed the barrel of his pistol into the gunshot wound in the man’s shoulder._

_“Thought you’d take my kids, did ya?” he growled as he twisted the gun. “You’re goin’ ta learn what happens when you come near my family.” He pulled the gun out, lifted up his other hand and dragged the knife across the man’s chest. He hadn’t even noticed Dutch, standing behind him, watching._

_“Arthur. Your wife and children are waiting. Go be with them.” Arthur turned sharply and stepped towards him._

_“Dutch…..”_

_“I wasn’t asking Arthur. I’ll finish up here.” Arthur stared at Dutch for a moment, before stepping away, wiping his weapons on a sheet and setting off down the stairs._

_Dutch made a big show of slowly taking off his waistcoat and carefully placing it on a nearby chair, despite the man in front being in no fit state to see what he was doing._

_“Now, let’s see what a goddamn child stealer looks like on the inside, you repulsive little maggot.”_

—

A few months had passed since robbery and kidnapping. You’d moved camp, and stayed away from Valentine, just in case, but thankfully no Pinkertons had shown up. You were stood watching the twins play with Jack in the nearby stream; they were laughing, splashing, trying to catch some of the little fish and frogs. They’d coped surprisingly well, but every so often one of them would wake with night terrors, and it was much harder to calm then back down than it ever used to be. It’ll get better you reassured yourself, not quite believing the words. Was this the right life for them?

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a pair of large arms wrapping around your waist from behind. Arthur leaned down and kissed you softly on the neck before resting his head on yours.

“They’ll be alright, Y/N. And it ain’t gonna be like this forever.”

How he knew what you were thinking, you had no idea; you suspected that it was because he was thinking the exact same thing.

“Just promise me we’ll always be together, Arthur.” You turned in his arms, placing your hands on his chest, staring up at his soft blue eyes.

“I promise Y/N.”


End file.
